Metal Gear Solid 3: The Gaurdian Angels Version 2
by Obscured Vison
Summary: The rewritten version! Snake is captured by the Patriots, but when Philantropy tries to save him, they uncover a secret that no human was ever to find out...
1. Chapter 1

Metal Gear Solid 3: The Guardian Angels (Version 2)  
  
A Continuation of Metal Gear Solid 2: The Sons of Liberty  
  
This fanfic takes place right after the game leaves off. After the Big Shell incident, the Patriots initiate their "Campaign Against Terror." But when Snake suspects there is more to the war than it seems and investigates, he is captured. Ten years after Snake's disappearance, the entire world in under the secret rule of the Patriots. Those who know their secret have gone into hiding. It is up to only a few brave souls to awaken the world and free it from the delusional fantasy world of the Patriots. But in doing so, they uncovered a secret that no man was to ever know . . .  
  
This is the revised version of the first fanfic. I didn't do any planning for the last one and was basically just slapping ideas onto paper. I thought that the last one didn't explain certain events very well and didn't tell the whole story. I've added a few chapters, changed some events, and altered some of the dialogue. Please R &R and give me any suggestions.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Metal Gear Solid 2, Solid Snake, Otacon, or any of the other characters contained in this fan-fiction (except for those of my own creation). They belong to the brilliant mind of Hideo Kojima and the hard-working people at Konami.  
  
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Chapter One  
  
  
  
Every channel across the entire nation broadcasted the exact same images. The eyes of the world had turned to Manhattan and they did not like what they saw. The streets were a mess: buildings toppled, fire hydrants uncapped, police and firefighters everywhere. And the intimidating shadow of Arsenal Gear looming off in the background, sticking out of the rubble like a knife that had been driven into a human heart - the heart of New York. Snake flipped through the channels, barely aware of the colors and images flashing before him - half conscious and half in deep thought.  
  
'So many innocent people . . .' Snake thought. 'And none of them are aware that their government, their leaders, and the decisions that affect their daily lives are all a big sham . . . Lies told by the Patriots . . . '  
  
He sighed. It could have been worse. Those hostages could have been killed. The Patriots' plan to use Arsenal as a digital watchtower had been delayed at the very least. But Liquid had escaped with Metal Gear RAY and Arsenal was still functional. And Olga's child! Where was he being held? Now all he could do was wait for Otacon to finish analyzing that disk.  
  
With the names of the Patriots he would - then what? What would he do after that? Snake knew he had come to a dead end. The Patriots were a necessity - for now. America had gone almost two centuries without true democracy and democracy is not something that you can reintroduce without problems. Problems Snake could not solve. Never before had Snake felt so powerless. The Patriots were an opponent who could out-think, out-maneuver, and out- gun him and Otacon at any given moment. The Patriots were in control of this game of chess and the American people were just pawns - going around attending to their daily needs - unaware of their King's ultimate plans.  
  
He needed to think. He took out a cigarette - debating whether or not to light it. His inner desire won and he pulled out a lighter.  
  
The telephone rang. Annoyed, Snake put the lighter down and answered the phone.  
  
"Snake, you there?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I've analyzed the contents of that disk."  
  
"Did you find the names of the Patriots?"  
  
"Yes, the disk contained the personal information of twelve people. One of them was one of our biggest contributors."  
  
"What? Where are they?"  
  
"We were right about them being in Manhattan, but."  
  
"But what?"  
  
"They're all dead."  
  
"What?! When did they die?"  
  
"About a hundred years ago."  
  
"What the hell--" Snake was perplexed. "What does this all mean?"  
  
"I don't know, Snake, but I don't like it."  
  
"Me neither."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Mr. Vice President."  
  
"Sir, would you please clarify."  
  
"--the accident at the Big Shell--"  
  
"--about these rumors of terrorist activity-"  
  
"Settle down everybody! Settle down!"  
  
The crowd around the raised platform quieted down. The Vice President stood up and walked to the podium. He was a tall striking figure. African American, with wide set shoulders and a voice as deep as the ocean itself.  
  
"Eh-hem-- You have all probably heard the rumors. About the explosion at the Big Shell offshore clean-up facility, the death of President Johnson, the new prototype of Metal Gear. Some of it is true other parts are not. I have the unfortunate duty of informing you that on April 29, the United States of America was attacked and held hostage by a band of Russian supplied terrorists. Yes. Attacked. Lead by none other than former President George Sears and the renegade anti-terrorist group, Dead-Cell, they took control of the Big Shell. President Johnson and many high-ranking officials were on a routine inspection of the facility at the time. The terrorist demanded 30 billion dollars or they would destroy the Big Shell and all those aboard. The result would be the worst environmental disaster the world would ever see."  
  
He paused examining the faces of those in the crowd. They were silent; listening to his every world and so were the billions of viewers worldwide. He smiled inwardly. They were hooked. All he needed to do was reel them in. And then the Patriots would be happy . . .  
  
"Due to the courageous efforts of many brave members of our Special Forces, the hostages were rescued and the environmental disaster was prevented. Unfortunately, the Big Shell was severely damaged in the process and collapsed before they and the president could escape.  
  
This stunning example of American bravery, courage, and sacrifice cannot be left unnoticed. On behalf of those who gave their lives there, a memorial will be constructed over the location of the Big Shell, to honor them and their sacrifice. I as the new active president vow to not rest until terrorism itself has been wiped out worldwide. This will mark the beginning of a new era. One where all men will truly be equal, justice will endure , and evil will perish! For all you who terrorize and prey on the innocent, let this be your warning! The deaths of our fellow Americans will not be in vain. We will hunt down and destroy all terrorists around the world. This will be a whole new war - a different kind of war - a campaign against terror. And this giant new Metal Gear you see here, Arsenal Gear, will be the key to our success . . ." 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
  
  
Jon Wimbleston had been a marine biologist for all his life. He lived with the animals, played with the animals, and sometimes even talked to them. He couldn't stand the people of modern society, so he instead devoted his to the study of whales. Now living alone in the arctic, he felt so free. But not today.  
  
He was in his tent, crouched over his electric heater. He, like everyone else, sat with their eyes glued to the television screen; watching the horrifying images over and over again. The image on his satellite TV turned to static. He shook the device and hit it with all his might, cursing modern technology at the same time.  
  
Suddenly, the ground beneath his legs began to shake. He scrambled out of the tent in time to see the ice crack below his feet and the terrifying outline of a gigantic creature coming at him. Jon Wimbleston was dead before he knew what hit him, his body slammed against the thick metal armor of Metal Gear RAY.  
  
Liquid smiled at himself when he saw the scientist's limp body floating on the surface of the water. How long would it take for his remains to be discovered? Would they find him before he turned into a frozen ice cube, or would the fishes get him instead? He looked down at the control panels in front of him. The coordinates matched the ones' stored in Ocelot's memory.  
  
It was interesting how this Liquid/Ocelot "partnership" worked. Not only did Liquid seem to possess Ocelot's physical attributes and memory but also his mind and his sadistic love for torture.  
  
He scanned the horizon, searching for something or someone that would be waiting for Ocelot's return.  
  
"Strange . . . There's nobody here . . ." Liquid muttered to himself.  
  
An alarm went off in the cockpit. Liquid instantly knew that it was a missile lock. He gunned RAY's motor, launching it a hundred feet into the air as two missile splashed down where he was just a second ago. Liquid looked down at his radar. Two other RAYs were approaching fast under the ice so he would have a hard time tracking them. He aimed slightly ahead of one and pressed the missile button. But much to Liquid's surprise, nothing happened.  
  
"Damn you, Ocelot! The fool wasted all of the ammo!"  
  
Liquid switched to the laser, but the two RAYs had surfaced already. An explosion rocked Liquid's RAY as a missile found it. Liquid launched his RAY backward simultaneously firing the laser at one of his opponents. There was a flash of light as the laser cut through one of the RAY's legs. The disabled RAY fell to the ground with a ground-shaking boom. Another missile hit Liquid's RAY and the armor indicator blinked red.  
  
Liquid cursed. He couldn't take another one of those missiles. This was a battle that he couldn't win. He plowed his RAY though the ice and began his decent into the deep, murky depths of the ocean. The remaining RAY followed him. Liquid had to swerve constantly to avoid the lasers from his pursuer. Suddenly, he heard the missile lock alarm again. He glanced at the sonar display. The other RAY was equipped with torpedoes and a pair was cutting through the water straight at him! He put his RAY in a complicated set of evasive maneuvers, but the torpedoes still tracked him. Liquid searched the cockpit for electronic countermeasures or anything that he could use but there was nothing. The torpedoes were gaining fast and Liquid's was running out of ideas.  
  
He slowed the RAY to a near stop and turned to face the oncoming projectiles. Carefully timing his each and every move, he waited. As soon at the torpedoes were about to impact Liquid gunned the motors once again. The torpedoes whizzed by but quickly began to search for their target again. Liquid zoomed toward the enemy RAY. The torpedoes once again found him and began their pursuit. At the last second before colliding with the enemy RAY, he swerved. The torpedoes now saw two targets. Liquid gambled that the torpedoes would track the other RAY. One of the torpedoes turned towards Liquid once again as the other, unable to find a target, detonated between the two RAYs sending shockwaves through the water.  
  
Liquid took the opportunity to once again head for the enemy RAY, but this time, swerving around it and coming out the out side. The torpedo plowed though the enemy RAY, instantly vaporizing the armor and exposing the vital electronics to the seawater. Electricity ran through the RAY as its internal components fried.  
  
"Stupid machines." Liquid said to himself as he plotted his course for the Mediterranean Sea. The Patriots had fooled him once but it wasn't going to happen again . . .  
  
Meanwhile at Snake an Otacon's Hideout   
  
Otacon sat there, hard at work on his laptop.  
  
"Hey Snake! Come and take a look at this!"  
  
Snake walked over. "What's the problem?"  
  
"I'm getting a signal from that transmitter on Liquid's RAY!"  
  
"Oh? And where is he?"  
  
"The Arctic Circle. I don't have an exact location; must be some weather interference."  
  
"Switch over to visual."  
  
Otacon typed a few commands into the computer. The screen showed a fuzzy picture of the Arctic wasteland. Suddenly, the camera was jerked upward as it had jumped. Explosions rang out below. Through the camera, they could faintly make out two Metal Gears below the ice. A missile streaked out from nowhere and impacted right next to the transmitter. Then the picture broke up.  
  
"Damn it! Just when it was getting interesting." Snake said as he got up.  
  
"Do you think that did it for Liquid, Snake?"  
  
"No, not a chance . . ." Snake replied, recalling that day at Shadow Moses. Liquid had survived the Hind crash, the destruction of Metal Gear REX, the fall from the top of Metal Gear, the jeep crash, and even FoxDie. Liquid must have had survival written into his genes. Never had Snake met anyone as with as many lives as Liquid. 'And now he lives through Ocelot - two foes in one . . .'  
  
"What do we do now? That disk didn't help. It gave us more questions than answers. Now we've lost track of Liquid. We're back to square one."  
  
"No, not exactly . . ."  
  
"You have an idea, Otacon."  
  
"As a matter of fact, I do . . ." 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2  
  
  
  
It was a cold night. Cold and dark. Only a small sliver of the moon was showing through the clouds. It was starting to rain. The new crew of Arsenal Gear had worked hard to get it back in the water. Now it was fully prepared for launch. None of the men noticed the nearly transparent figure of a man slip by and onto the surface of Arsenal.  
  
"Snake, do you read me?"  
  
"Loud and clear, Otacon."  
  
"Good. Let's go through this one more time. You are to infiltrate Arsenal and find out as much a possible about its destination, crew, and cargo. We need the information to find out what the Patriots are planning to do. Snake we have no other leads. It is imperative for you to get as much --"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I get the picture. Just get on with it, will ya?"  
  
"Okay, get to the main computer room on the 2nd floor. It should be right below the hanger for the RAYs. Although Arsenal is completely automated, there still should be manual controls there. Arsenal is fully staffed and equipped this time. If you're caught, we're dealing with over 3000 marines on your tail. Remember, these are US Marines, not Russian mercenaries. Use the modified M9 with tranquilizer darts."  
  
"You don't need to be so worried, Otacon. We've been through this before. Snake out."  
  
Snake looked around. There were a few sentries around the site, but the top was all clear. It was so dark; the stealth camouflage was hardly necessary. Snake quickly found a hatch door, but before he could open it, a guard came out followed by two more. Snake backed away slowly, hoping that they wouldn't see the outline of himself in the rain. The stealth camo made him transparent but the rainwater on his clothes made a perfectly visible. Luckily, they walked away without noticing a thing. Snake quickly climbed down the ladder and into Arsenal.  
  
Snake found himself in a hallway, dripping wet. He hoped that no one would notice the puddle of water he left. Carefully he inched along the hallway. A door appeared to the right of him. It was open. He peeked around the corner. It was a locker room leading to a shower. Something caught Snake's eye. Some careless recruit had left their ID card on the bench. Snake pocketed the card and moved on. The hatch Snake came through suddenly opened. Three marines came through and headed his way. Snake walked the other way. Another group of Marines appeared in front of him. Snake cursed under his breath. The first group had disappeared into the showers. He moved away from the group in the hallway.  
  
He came across an elevator. The door said: 5th floor - Crew Quarters. The down arrow above the elevator lit up. Snake quickly flattened himself against the wall - counting on the stealth camouflage to hide him. The door opened and a man stepped out.  
  
Snake hid his surprise. The man was himself, younger and stronger. He wore the same camouflage as the marines but carried no ID, no nametag, and no rank insignia. His hair was long and drawn back into a tail. It was as if he had stepped out from the past. He came out and paused. It was as if he sensed something. He turned his head and looked straight through the spot Snake was standing. His eyes narrowed and he sniffed the air as if he had caught a scent. Then he turned and left. Snake stood there frozen for a moment. After catching his breath he moved into the elevator and pressed the 2nd floor button.  
  
Snake pressed a button on his head set.  
  
"Otacon are you there?"  
  
"Yes Snake. Are you in the com -"  
  
"I just saw myself."  
  
"What!? What are you talking about?"  
  
"You heard me, I just saw myself. I was younger, a bit leaner, but I have no doubt."  
  
"I still don't know what you mean. Are you talking about a vision or a hallucination?"  
  
"No! I mean flesh and bone. Like a twin or something."  
  
"But there were only three of you: Solid, Liquid, and Solidus."  
  
"I know. That's what bothers me."  
  
"Well be careful Snake."  
  
"You don't need to remind me. Snake out."  
  
The elevator doors opened. Luckily no one was there. Snake looked around. The entire hallway was dark. A flickering light bulb hung from the ceiling. An arrow pointed to the left labeled Computer Room. Snake headed for the door. It had a security card slot. He swiped the stolen ID card.  
  
"ACSSESS DENIED"  
  
"Damn . . ."  
  
"Otacon, I'm locked out of the Computer Room."  
  
"Is there anyway you could obtain the proper security card?"  
  
"Not without causing a commotion."  
  
"You may be able to open the door from another source. There's a node in the room down the other end of that hallway. From there you could hack into the system and open the door."  
  
"Hack? I'm not much of a hacker."  
  
"Don't worry I'll guide you step by step from here."  
  
"Hey! How do you know about the layout plans of Arsenal?"  
  
"I did a bit of hacking while you were gone."  
  
"If you hacked into Arsenal there couldn't you-"  
  
"Nope. Already tried. The entire Arsenal AI is like a giant lock box. I can't get into it. I had to hack into the Pentagon's files to obtain the structural info."  
  
Snake walked down the hallway. It was eerily absent of life. Unlike the other parts of Arsenal, this place seemed to be unfinished, like a cut that hasn't healed. As he approached the door, it opened on its own. There was nobody there. Snake carefully entered. The gust air cold air was unexpected to say the least. The door shut behind him. Snake was in a giant freezing chamber. Round, glass vats containing vile substances and remotely human figures lined the walls. His Stealth Camo started to flicker and died.  
  
"Damn, must be the cold."  
  
The grated floor clunked as Snake walked across. The node was all the way across on the other side. Something caught his eye as he made his way across the room. A baby boy floated in a tank. A label near the bottom said: Gurlukovich.  
  
"Olga's child." Snake whispered.  
  
Unlike the other vats, this one was not frozen. The boy opened its eyes and saw the face of a man. It was a face that he would remember.  
  
Snake pressed the button on his headset again.  
  
"Otacon, you won't believe it. I've found Olga's child. Otacon, are you there? Otacon! Respond!!"  
  
"He can't hear you - Solid Snake! We traced your other calls back to his location." Snake turned around and pulled out his M9. A figure stood at the doorway. A familiar figure.  
  
"No. NO! This can't be . . . Who are you?!" Snake's hands were trembling. Never before had he felt this much fear.  
  
"I am you. I am your shadow!"  
  
"NO! Impossible! You're not Liquid!"  
  
"Indeed I am not. Liquid may have been your brother, but then I would be your son!"  
  
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!"  
  
"It's time for you to learn the truth, Solid. After your success at Shadow Moses, they decided to take another look into the Les Enfants Terribles. What a wonderful thing technology is! Now, clones can be made in less than a sixth of the time it took to create the Genome Soldiers. And they can surpass even you. Your body is weakening, Snake. The effects of time have already taken their took on you. I'm surprised you're still doing this after Shadow Moses."  
  
"NO!!! YOU LIE!!!" Snake fired the M9. The bullets curved around his target and hit the wall behind him.  
  
"You're not as good as were before. Technology has improved and your ways have not. We detected your presence well before you were even on board Arsenal. You are long overdue for retirement Snake. It is time that you join your generation of weak and pathetic clones. Join these other specimens around you. Yes, these are all the failed Snakes. The experiments that went horribly wrong. Maybe someday, we'll even put you in a museum, so people of future generations can learn and laugh at you pathetic ways."  
  
Snake felt the ground tremble beneath his feet. He leaped back just in time before the floor where he was standing collapsed. The figure just stood there laughing. Snake quickly took in his surroundings. The vats were in several rows. He was at one end and his opponent at the other.  
  
"So it comes to this . . ." the clone whispered. "You can't hurt me with those weapons and I am unarmed. Do you dare to fight me Snake? Are you ready for that kind of humiliation?"  
  
"The only ones who will be humiliated are those who created you after they out how pathetic you are!"  
  
"Fighting to the last moment . . . I am honored to be of your flesh and blood. Ever since my creation, I have awaited this day. The day that I would finally meet the one with the same face as I . . ."  
  
"And what do they call you? Solid Snake, too, right?"  
  
"No. . . I've surpassed him. I am . . . Silver Hawk!!!! I kill snakes!!!! And I'll kill you!!!!"  
  
He launched himself across the room. Snake couldn't believe his eyes. The man called Hawk had literally flown across the room; clearing at least fifty some feet with a single bound. Snake didn't have time to defend against the attack. He was thrown of his feet by the sheer force of the impact.  
  
Dazed, Snaked picked himself off the floor. He charged at Hawk. Snake threw all his weight into the punch but his fist met thin air. He felt the sharp blow to his back and his legs being kicked out from under him. Snake found himself staring into Hawk's face - his own face.  
  
He tried to trip Hawk with a sweeping kick, but Hawk jumped up and landed full force onto Snake's lower leg. They both heard the sickening crack as his bone gave in. The kick sent him a full five feet into the air. By either luck or calculation, Snake had landed on his feet. He could feel his entire body burning with pain and could taste the blood in his mouth. He shifted his weight to his good leg and threw another punch at Hawk. Hawk caught the punch with lightning speed. His fingers tightened against Snake's fist, breaking it like a styrofoam cup. Then in one fluid motion he threw Snake against the wall behind him.  
  
Whatever left of Snake's breath had been knocked out by that blow. Before he even fell to the ground, he found himself dangling above the ground, pinned to the wall by the throat by Hawk's iron grip. The two men stood there gazing into each other's eyes as a predator would to its prey. The remainder of Snake's strength disappeared along with his hope of survival.  
  
"Don't worry, Snake. My nanomachines won't let me kill you. The Patriots still want you to be displayed in that museum. We'll take good care of your body, Snake, we can't let a good specimen go bad, now can we?"  
  
Snake was flung into the air in a great arc, landing precisely into the place where the floor had disappeared.  
  
He found himself in a large vat like the ones above him. Cold gases were pouring in from all sides. Snake felt the life being drained out of him.  
  
A voice inside of him said 'It was bound to happen. You knew that this day would come. The day Solid Snake became no more. And deep inside of you, you were looking forward to that day. Yes, Snake, you were looking forward to the end. And now that it has found you, do you have any regrets? Stop struggling and embrace the truth . . ."  
  
Snake felt his fingers stop responding, then his arms and legs, then his chest. The numbing feeling of the fluids was slowing entering his body. The last sight he saw was the life support mask lower from the top of the vat. Then all went black . . . 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
  
  
Rose lay awake on the bed, tired yet not ready to fall asleep. It was one of those nights where you could try with all your might and still not fall asleep. She could feel Jack's chest rising as he inhaled and exhaled. How did he manage it? She looked at him lying there, bathed in the moonlight that fell from the sky. He looked so peaceful; so quiet lying there. It was hard to imagine that a person could be put through the trauma and the horrors that Jack had become so accustomed to. She felt sorry for him, the boy inside of him who never had the chance to ride a bike, read a book, or have fun with friends. And in reality, he still was a boy, uncertain of his future and his past, living only in his present.  
  
She got up to get a drink. Maybe some water would help her get to sleep. She walked into their small kitchenette and turned on the faucet. How she longed for her own home! They had been only living there for two days but the plainness of the hotel room was driving her crazy! The wedding was an entire week away, and she felt as if it would never come. And after that, they would buy a house; somewhere peaceful, where they could just sit back and let their problems just drift away . . .The water was cold and sweet, as water from a hotel always is.  
  
Then she felt it: the cold fingers of death, pain, sorrow, and anguish touched her. The world became dimmer and darker - she was no longer in the hotel room with Jack.  
  
She stood at the bottom of a stairwell. The walls were old and the paint was peeling; yet something about the old building did not feel right. There was a slight noise behind her and she noticed a tiny furry creature run into the shadows. She began to climb the stairs, one step at a time, unsure of what else to do. She reached the second floor. There were doors to her right and he left; she must have been in an old abandoned apartment building. She looked behind her and saw nothing. A tingle went down her spine as she thought of what may lie in an old building like this one.  
  
She continued down the hallway and tried not to think about monsters and ghosts and all the other nameless horrors that dwelled in deep dark places in one's mind. A door ahead of her was ajar. Faint light was coming from the room. She took a deep breath and peeked into the room. Inside was a skinny fellow, sitting in front of computer screen after computer screen. He was saying something into a microphone but Rose couldn't make out the words. Suddenly Rose was gone from the room and back at the entrance. There was the sound a door creaking and the soft echo of footsteps. Rose turned around in surprise. She saw the group of men entering the building. Each carried a M-4 and wore heavy black body armor. She screamed out as they rushed towards her but her cry was unheard. She tried to get out of the way but she could not. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as the lead soldier came at her . . . and passed right through her . . . She looked up in surprise. Then she realized: the skinny man was in danger! She yelled out to warn him!  
  
"GET OUT OF HERE!!! THEY'VE COME TO GET YOU!!! RUN WHILE YOU STILL HAVE A CHANCE!!!!"  
  
"ROSE!!! Are you alright!?"  
  
Rose awakened on the kitchen floor with Jack bent over her. She stood up and brushed the hair out her eyes. The glass she was drinking out of lay shattered on the ground.  
  
"Are you okay, Rose? You were screaming! What happened?"  
  
"Jack, something's wrong! Otacon is in trouble!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Otacon is in trouble! I don't know how, but I just felt this cold gust of wind and - and I was just there and I saw Otacon - and these men came with guns - and oh god! What am I saying?"  
  
"Calm down, Rose! I'm sure Otacon is fine! I'll call him by Codec okay?"  
  
Jack reached for his Codec on the nightstand. He set the frequency to 141.12 and called.  
  
"Otacon? Are you there? Otacon?"  
  
"Jack, do something! Otacon's not there! He could b-"  
  
"Don't worry Rose! He's probably just asleep. Be sensible Rose!"  
  
"I know what I saw and I believe it. Otacon is in trouble and needs our help."  
  
"What can we do? Snake and Otacon are still in New York!"  
  
"Philanthropy has a branch in New York right? Let's go over there and check. They did provide us with that private jet, after all."  
  
"That jet is for emergency use! And what if we get over there and nothing has happened?"  
  
"Well what if something has happened and we weren't there? I'm going. If you don't like that, you can stay here!"  
  
Jack was silent for a moment.  
  
"Fine. Let's get going!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Snake! Snake! Are you there? Snake! Stop joking around, Snake!" Otacon yelled into the Codec.  
  
Suddenly, rid lights started flashing on his display. Security breach!!! Otacon switched to the hidden cameras on the first floor hallway. Sure enough, the door was open and men were rushing in. Men with guns.  
  
"Damn it!"  
  
Otacon grabbed his laptop and his brief case. He put on the overcoat and rushed out the door.  
  
He reached into his pocket for the detonator for the C4 booby traps on his office. All he had to do was press a single button and the 45-second timer would begin. But for some reason, he couldn't do it. He couldn't press the button. Those men had families. They had children. None of them deserved to die.  
  
He put the detonator back in his pocket. He found the secret tile on in the hallway that opened up into a secret underground passage. He opened the trapdoor and jumped in just before the intruders came up the stairs. Otacon followed the passage until it opened up into an alleyway. Then he hailed a cab and disappeared into the New York City nightlife . . . 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
  
  
  
  
Ten Years After Snake's Disappearance   
  
From the diaries of Hal Emmerich-  
  
"It's been ten years . . . Ten long years, since that day, the day that Solid Snake disappeared. For ten years I waited, ten years I wasted, hoping for his return. Never accepting, never believing that which had happened. His legend, his legacy, all but forgotten. Nobody thought it was possible. Nobody was ready for it, for Solid Snake, in our hearts was invincible. The identity of the foe that bested him inside Arsenal remains secret and his body remains to be found.  
  
Our hope died that day along with Solid Snake. Those of us who knew the secret of the Patriots were powerless to stop it. That young man, Jack he was called, came that night. He claimed that his fiancée, Rose, had a vision. It was as if that day was meant to come. Philanthropy is now just another dead organization opposing an enemy far greater than its ability to handle. And I, a weakling at most, can do nothing ease the suffering of my peers and myself. I have lost many loved ones in my journey through life. First Sniper Wolf, then Emma, then Solid Snake . . . The list goes on and on . . . When will all the death end? Why is fate so cruel?! Sometimes I have to ask myself: 'Is it all worth it?'  
  
The Patriots "Campaign Against Terror" goes well; like every other project they undertake. The war moves to the Middle East and China as the terrorist organizations migrate. To the public, the government is protecting them from possible danger. To us, they are establishing rule on helpless Third World countries. Now we must live underground, away from the public. They have labeled us as "terrorists" and hunt us down like dogs.  
  
I look back on these ten years and I see how little we have accomplished. And I see how much mankind has prospered. The forming of the European Federation, the technological advances, and the miracles in human cloning. Could the Patriots be for mankind's good after all? No. Of course not. How can I even think of that? So much has happened and there is so much to write, but there is little time and I better get going. I will record these events for the good of mankind, hoping that someday, someone will come across it and read our story, fell or pain, and remember these days.  
  
The Patriots are not an enemy to be fought with a sword. Nor are they an enemy to be defeated with a pen. Whenever something big washes up-like Arsenal Gear, they turn it around and use it to their favor. It is as if they control luck itself.  
  
Why did I have to discover this secret? Why do I have to live in this constant world of fear? Knowledge is power, but mine is my curse. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I lived under the Patriots' blanket of lies. Without knowledge of their existence, without this suffering. Sometimes I still wish that I had died that day at Shadow Moses along with Wolf . . ."  
  
Otacon put the pen down. A tear fell from his eyes and onto the sheet of paper he was writing on. Unknowingly, he had started to cry. Desperately, he tried to wipe it off, but it was too late. The ink had already smeared. The light bulb hanging from the ceiling was flickering, a constant reminder of the conditions Philanthropy had to go through. The underground bunker didn't bother Otacon as much a he though it would. They would constantly move around to remain one step ahead of the Patriots, one step ahead of enslavement by a shadow government and the deprivation of the basic human rights . . .  
  
His thoughts were interrupted when a man appeared at the door to his room. He was young, no older than sixteen.  
  
"Hey! Hal, whacha doing there? You better pack. We're leaving in about an hour. Just thought you might wanna know."  
  
'So young, yet he must bear this burden, too, just like me . . ." This thought gave him strength. 'I will keep on living and fighting, but not for Snake or myself. But for the children . . . For the future of mankind!'  
  
Otacon sighed and stood up, gathering his paper and placing them neatly in his briefcase. 'The world may not recognize you as who you are, but it will acknowledge you for what you do . . .' Otacon thought as he left his room.  
  
'I hope I do the right things . . .' 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
  
  
All was still at the camp. The sentries were weary from the night's watch; several had fallen asleep standing-up. From far away, one couldn't possibly even tell that beings lived there. Liquid was always the first to awaken. He walked out of his tent, taking in the environment around him. It was only early-morning, yet the sun had already risen and shining down upon them. Liquid was glad to be home again. Back in the Middle East were he spent many of his years fighting. Only here could he truly feel alive. The dry air, the sun baked earth, the sand in the wind . . . All brought back to him memories of his younger days. A strange pain had begun to bother him. It was probably time to get a new host for himself. Ocelot's body had out lived its purpose. For over thirteen years it had housed Liquid's mind. Now was the time to choose another.  
  
He sighed. Ten years ago . . . Ten years since that day . . .  
  
He had slipped into the Mediterranean without any trouble. The trek across Europe had been entertaining to say the least. RAY was, after all, designed for all terrain travel. It had taken a long time to find his old comrades again, even longer to win back their trust. Now, they were here, a full one thousand of them, living sparingly and hiding from the world. They were labeled as terrorists by the Patriots, hunted like dogs day to day. But the time was ripe for him to rise again. Pooling their resources with other terrorist organizations, they had obtained weapons of mass destruction. Now they had enough forces to challenge the Patriots themselves. No longer would they be the prey, now they would become the hunters . . .  
  
Liquid walked back into his tent. He searched around and quickly found what he was looking for. The metal was wearied and the words were fading, but they had withstood the tests of time. Liquid held the pair of dog tags up. They had been his, from such a long time ago, the name they carried now meaningless but the memories locked inside were priceless. It had been his good luck charm when he was younger, but he had not used it for years. But now, he would call upon it once again. The future of mankind would be decided in the days to come and Liquid was not going to take chances, for this would be his last chance and his only opportunity to do what he was going to do. He brought the cold metal to his lips, breathing in its cold metallic taste.  
  
Memories flooded into his head like a flash flood. His childhood in England, his days fighting in the Middle East, and Shadow Moses . . . Snake had been right that day . . . What good would a would of chaos and destruction be? How could he have been blind to it all? He had tried to fight off these feelings in the past, but today, he allowed them to flow through his mind. Big Boss had been a fool. He had been a fool. He wasn't fighting for himself that day, he had been fighting for Big Boss! Now he would fight for something even greater than Big Boss or his warriors' pride. He would fight for the good of mankind! A tears of anger welled up in his eyes. Liquid fought them off. It had been the first time in his life that he had ever cried. He was sure it would be the last.  
  
Sounds of shouting and gunfire came from outside. Liquid slipped the dog tags around his neck and went outside. In the distance, he could make out a lone figure on foot; running from the scores of pursuers on horseback. The bullets splashed down all around him, yet he braved even that and kept on going. A man driven too far could do anything without fear and this one was on the brink of insanity. If he outran those chasing him, the desert would kill him. Yet if he were caught, he would face even greater punishment from his superiors. He was undoubtedly one of Alreahd's soldiers; he had a reputation for mistreating his men.  
  
Liquid climbed onto his personal horse, Sheath. She was large and strong - well fitted for survival in the desert. Liquid dug his heels into her sides and she launched forward, towards Makir Alreahd's tent. Upon arrival, Liquid saw the deserter being dragged in, beaten and bruised. His bones may have been broken but his spirit remained strong. The men gave a quick salute to Liquid as Alreahd walked out of the tent. Alreahd was a short man with a beard almost as long as himself. At first glance one would think that he was a funny looking man, but in the desert, looks were often misleading. Alreahd was one of the fiercest warriors to be found in the Middle East and he had an ego to match. Unlike all of the other commanders, Makir did not answer to Liquid.  
  
Makir did not say a word. He walked up to the deserter. The blow was so fast it was hard to see it. The man flew backwards, his blood seeping from a hundred wounds. He picked himself up from the sands and looked Makir in the eyes. Liquid saw the hatred burning in them. Makir only laughed. One of the soldiers handed him his AK and he took it into his hands pointing it straight at the other man's head.  
  
"I'll end this quick for you, because you are my son. DIE!" he sreamed in Arabic.  
  
Liquid somersaulted off his horse, drawing his saber in midair and landing between the two.  
  
"White Devil . . . What a surprise . . ."  
  
"You cannot kill your own son, Makir." Liquid replied quickly in perfect Arabic.  
  
"You cannot stop me."  
  
"There are other ways to punish him . . ."  
  
"You have grown soft, White Devil! You no longer have the warriors' spirit in you. Stand aside! Before I kill you as well."  
  
Thinking quickly, Liquid replied, "Your son could be useful to me. Why let a good soldier go to waste?"  
  
Liquid had been needing a new body. And Makir's son would make the perfect Liquid Snake. He was tall, unlike his father, and reminded Liquid very much of himself in his younger days. They even shared a resemblance, however slight it may be.  
  
Makir thought for a while. His lip twitched. That soon grew into a grin, then a smile. "Are you willing to fight me for possession of my son, then?" He whispered.  
  
Liquid laughed, "How long have you been waiting for that opportunity, Makir? Your ambitions are no secret! Ever since the first day returned, I saw that look in your eyes! You want to kill me so you can command the troops! Well let me tell you, you are as fit for command as you are for defeating me, fool! Give me your son now and I will spare your life!"  
  
"I think you have mistaken my friend, my comrade. You will be the one who will be begging to be spared."  
  
Liquid raised his free hand above his head and yelled out to the soldiers, "You have all heard the man! We shall duel for his son's life! You are all witnesses!"  
  
"Then it is agreed!" Makir threw the gun to the side and drew his sword.  
  
Makir struck first, his sword moving like lightning. Liquid countered and stuck horizontally, but his saber met thin air. Makir rolled under the blow and appeared a Liquid's back. Liquid back flipped over Makir's trust and brought his sword down at Makir's head. But he ducked and rolled again. Liquid threw a low kick and Makir, but he saw it in time to jump backwards. The two men circled and continued this delicate dance, where seconds counted and a single mistake could cost one a life. Makir swung again and again at Liquid, forcing him to constantly defend, waiting for him to miss. Liquid saw his opportunity and swung horizontally at Makir's neck. Makir took a step back to avoid the blow but he was not quick enough. A large section of Makir's beard had been severed and fell to the ground.  
  
"YOU DIE FOR THAT!!!!!!!"  
  
Makir launched himself at Liquid yelling like a crazed panther. Liquid blocked and parried his opponent's strong thrusts. Makir's beard had been a symbol of his power and dignity. He would stop at nothing to get Liquid back for what he did. The cheers of the crowd that had gathered were mixed. Liquid knew the Makir's men hated their leader. He had them on his side. But in the crowd one man was cheering for Makir. His very own son, who had been beaten within an inch of his life by Makir, was still yelling out his name. Liquid was distracted for one moment and that was all Makir needed. His sword cut thought Liquid's left hand. Liquid screamed in pain as the severed limb fell to the ground but continued fighting. Makir had calmed himself down and was more careful than ever. Liquid knew that Makir was not much of an acrobat. That was Liquid's only advantage. He feigned tripping over and landed on his back. Crawling backwards to avoid Makir's blade.  
  
"Got more than you bargained for, eh Devil?" He said as he raised his sword for the final blow.  
  
Liquid hurled himself forward and through Makir's open legs. Makir swung his sword in a wide circle. Liquid jumped up and landed on Makir's sword. Both men stood there for a moment. Liquid jumped back and smiled. Makir looked down in shock to see Liquid's saber stabbed squarely through his heart. The bent sword fell from his heads. He stumbled towards Liquid as if wanting to strangle the life out of him.  
  
"You bastard! This . . . cannot be . . . I . . . can't . . . die . . . yet . . ."  
  
"Save your breath old man. After all the harm you have done, you deserve death. I came to you decades ago because you were ruthless. I left you because you were heartless. Now I kill you because are no longer fit for command!" Liquid cried out as he pulled his saber from Makir's chest.  
  
A cry rose up from the soldiers surrounding them.  
  
"WHITE DEVIL!!! WHITE DEVIL!!! LEAD US TO VICTORY!!!"  
  
Liquid sheathed the bloody sword. A sudden twang of pain from what had been his left arm awoke him from all of the distraction. He walked over to Makir's son.  
  
"Why? Why did you kill my father?!"  
  
"He was to kill you. And besides, our soldiers are better off without him."  
  
"You bastard! What do you want from me?"  
  
"You? Well, now that you ask . . . I could use a new host . . . You are strong, yes, you will serve me well . . ."  
  
"Damn you! You cannot control me! You hear!!! You may take away my body, but no one can take away my soul!!!"  
  
"Hmmm . . . How little you know . . ." Liquid said as he motioned for several soldiers to pick the other man's body up.  
  
He led them into the medical tent with Makir's son screaming all of the way. 


	7. Chapter 7

Note: This chapter may be kind of confusing because the age of a certain character doesn't seem to add up, but I assure you, THINGS WILL BE EXPLAINED LATER ON!!!! So don't fret!  
  
P.S. I've fixed the previous chapter's time problem. Oh yeah, BTW, it happens at the same time as chapter five for those of you who didn't get that. Sorry for any confusion.  
  
  
  
Chapter 7  
  
  
  
Ivan Gurlukovich sat in the back of the black ATSFU (Anti-Terror Special Forces Unit) truck. Today they would be raiding a suspected terrorist hideout. There had been an anonymous tip that a terrorist cell had established a secret operations base within the New York City limits.  
  
The truck jolted as it ran over another pothole. New York had fallen into relative disrepair in the last several years with the majority of government funds going to National Security and the War Effort in the Middle East. The cold autumn wind bit into his skin and he shivered. It was a dreary day. The sky was gray and it seemed like it was going to rain. The weather seemed to be getting worse everyday, now.  
  
Ivan glanced around at the other seven men in the truck with him. He had been with the Unit for four years now. From the very beginning, he had shown promise as a leader and as a soldier. He had climbed the ranks quickly and was well respected in his department.  
  
Miller wasn't with them today. He was undoubtedly the most experienced of them all. He had just divorced his wife and was going through a lot. It was decided that he was no longer fit for active duty. Ivan felt sorry for his older friend. He knew how much he had wanted to come along. It pained him to bring him the news that he would be discharged from the unit but it had to be done. Miller hadn't said anything but he had just stared at him with those sad blue eyes; almost begging.  
  
Ivan shook his to get the image out of his head. It hurt to think of it. Instead, he looked across the truck at Miller's replacement. He was young; no older than eighteen.  
  
"Hey, bro!" he called out cheerfully.  
  
Ivan was surprised by the boy's enthusiasm, but he managed to utter a reply. "Oh, hi. You're . . . Zack, right?"  
  
"Yeah! You know my name!"  
  
"I read your record. It's pretty impressive."  
  
"Aw, stop trying to humor me. It's not impressive at all compared to yours. You were famous back in training! Everyone knew your name! They said, 'Work hard and by like that Gurlukovich boy!' and that's what I did."  
  
"That's really flattering, but most of it probably isn't true. I'm not really that great in person."  
  
"Hell! Oh course you are! Don't deny it!"  
  
"Okay, okay. Whatever you say. Bro?"  
  
Both men laughed.  
  
"We're almost there," a voice from the front of the truck yelled out.  
  
"Gear up men! Let's get this over with quick." Ivan said as he shouldered his M4-E1.  
  
Each of them carried a modified M4-E1 equipped with a silencer, laser sight, and scope. Add that to the stun grenades, fragmentation grenades, advanced SOCOM pistol, high impact bulletproof body armor, riot shield, CODEC communication device, and blast helmet with infrared and night-vision goggles as well as a gas mask and personal oxygen supply and you have an ATSFU Commando.  
  
Ivan grasped the handle of the combat knife hidden in his belt, performing the ritual he performed before every mission. His mother had given it to him ten years ago - the day before the Big Shell Incident. It had been her lucky charm until that day - now it was his. It's strange how fate works. The day after his mother gave him the knife she was killed in the rescue mission. She was the only woman in the rescue effort and Ivan had no doubt she had fought at least as hard as the men in her unit.  
  
The truck stopped. Ivan motioned for his men to get ready. They jumped out of the truck single file and quickly ran to the brick wall of the apartment complex. Ivan saw Team Jeta run around the other side. He glanced up at the surrounding buildings. He saw the glint of glass lenses. The snipers were in position.  
  
"Mako Leader, are your men in position?"  
  
"Affirmative command."  
  
"Commence the raid."  
  
Ivan Gurlukovich flattened himself against the brick wall. He signaled for his men. They moved in unison, like a pack of wolves surrounding their prey. Team Jeta had already shut down the security systems. Ivan took out his hand-held precision cutter and began working on the locked door. It barely made any sound at all. The lock was old; it still required a key to open. Cutting though it took no time at all.  
  
  
  
Slowly, Ivan opened the door covering his body with the riot shield. He scanned for any resistance but there was none. Switching to infrared, he saw several infrared beams across the hallway. They weren't hooked up to any explosives or transmitters. They were probably hooked up to a security system. The fact that terrorists got their hands on infrared technology bothered him, but he had no reason to complain. He reached for the reflective tape on his combat belt and carefully applied it to each of the emitters. Team Mako moved in. Ivan stood in front disabling each of the infrared sensors. A door at the end of the hallway had a high concentration of beams. After disabling those sensors, he tested the door. It was unlocked. Taking a deep breath, he raised the shield and rushed in with all of Team Mako at his back.  
  
  
  
Otacon had finished packing. He didn't have much to pack - only a couple pairs of worn out clothes and his laptop computer. He walked out of his room into their makeshift computer room. The man at the computer called to him. He was slightly plump but made up for it in genius.  
  
"Hey, Hal. You ready? Take over for a second. I'll go warm up the truck."  
  
"Sure go ahead. Anything to keep you from hogging the computer, Al."  
  
Al walked up the stairs but before he could open the door, it was swung backwards with tremendous force. He landed in a heap at the bottom, knocked senseless by the impact. Eight men dressed in black body-armor with M4's and riot shields descended the staircase. The first one lost his footing and fell to the bottom; not expecting there to be stairs under his feet. They formed a protective wall with their riot shields as grenades were thrown from behind.  
  
Several of the Philanthropy members pulled out firearms and began exchanging fire with the ATSFU. Two of the men fell, hit by bullets but they climbed right back up; with the bullets stopped by the body armor. The grenades went of, blinding some and killing others. The soldiers opened fire. It was total chaos.  
  
Otacon dived behind the computer desk. He could hear the gunfire and the screams of friends. He didn't need to see to know what was going on. Fear had over taken him and he had frozen up completely. A stern voice yelled out "DON'T MOVE! Put your hands behind your head! Slowly come out of the desk."  
  
Ivan looked at the pathetic wretch he had pulled out from underneath the desk. The man had brown hair that had started to gray and glasses. He must have been in his late forties or early fifties. He looked up at Ivan trying to his face, but the helmet prevented him from doing so. The fighting behind them had stopped. The remaining members of Philanthropy were being rounded up and marched away.  
  
"Up on your feet. Go."  
  
Otacon looked at the grizzly scene before him. His friends and peers, dead, dying on the cold bloodstained floor. Unable to contain he emotion, he struck at his captor.  
  
"How could you?! How could you kill them all!!! They were innocent people - all of them caught up in this mess of a war!! And you KILLED THEM!!!! You deserve to rot in hell - all of you!!!"  
  
"Shut up!!! You can't justify what you did that day at the Big Shell. My mother died that day and she died because of terrorists like you!!! We should of shot you all on the streets so all the families who lost loved ones could see their deaths avenged!!! MOVE!!!"  
  
"You don't understand!!!! We are "Philanthropy" not terrorists. We were an Anti-Metal-Gear organization until the day they accused us of being behind the Big Shell Incident. The government you know or you think you know is not real! You have to believe me!!! They framed us and they are manipulating you!!!"  
  
"Go up the stairs. I'll follow you."  
  
"Please!!! Believe me!!!"  
  
"Do I need to shoot you to make you shut up!!! Besides, why should anyone believe you?"  
  
Suddenly, Ivan felt the cold draft of wind. The M-4 slipped from his hands, clattering against the floor. The face of a familiar stranger appeared before his eyes. It was same face as the ones in his dreams. He fell to his knees. At the same time, his combat belt loosened and the combat knife fell to the ground.  
  
Otacon saw the blade. It was initialed: O.G. He looked up in surprise. Olga . . . Olga Gurlukovich!!!  
  
"IVAN!!! What happened?" Zack rushed over.  
  
"What did you do?!" He yelled at Otacon.  
  
"It wasn't him, Zack. It must have been that fall from the stairs." Ivan said as he picked himself off the floor.  
  
"Need any help?" Zack asked.  
  
"No, get back to the truck,"  
  
"Okay, see you there." Zack said as he ran up the stairs.  
  
"Your mother didn't happen to named Olga did she?" Otacon asked.  
  
It was Ivan's turn to be surprised. Ivan picked the blade off the ground and sheathed it once again.  
  
"How did you know?!! Tell me!!!"  
  
"Hurry up Ivan!"  
  
Ivan glanced around.  
  
"Get in the truck. We will talk later." Ivan whispered to Otacon. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
  
  
The prison cell bore the same likeliness as Philanthropy's underground bunker. The walls were the same colorless gray. There was no evidence of a door or a window, but Otacon knew that they were watching him. He had sat on his bed for most of the time, pondering how he could possibly get himself out of this one. Many things raced through his mind: questions without answers and feelings without words to describe them.  
  
The Gurlukovich boy-his age just didn't add up. Olga was pregnant with him on that tanker twelve years ago, but how could he be fully-grown? Why was he working for the government? Memory implants? Misguidance? So many questions . . .  
  
His thoughts were interrupted when part of the wall slid open. Otacon stood up. Four men walked into the room. Their leader was a tall man of maybe 24. He was very well built and reminded Otacon much of Snake. His blonde hair was buzz cut in a military fashion. He looked Russian. Otacon guessed that he was Gurlukovich child. Only he wasn't a child. The only things that bothered him were his eyes. Never before had Otacon seen anyone with such sad eyes.  
  
The door shut behind them. There was no seam.  
  
"Leave us." He said in a stern voice, without a hint of a Russian accent.  
  
The other three men looked quizzically at Ivan.  
  
"I wish to interrogate this prisoner--alone."  
  
"But -"  
  
"Please Zack, do what I say."  
  
The three other men left without another word. Ivan waited until the door had sealed itself behind them. He grabbed Otacon by the collar, hoisting him clear off the ground.  
  
"Now tell me how you know my mother!"  
  
"Hey! Calm down! And let me down! Thank-you. Much better."  
  
Otacon began to tell his story. Of the events ten years ago in the Big Shell. Of how it was a staged training session by the Patriots, and of Olga's involvement. Ivan didn't say a thing during the entire time.  
  
"The only thing that I'm not sure of is how you are here. Your mother gave birth to you around eleven years ago, meaning that you couldn't possibly be full grown today."  
  
Ivan's face remained emotionless, but his head in turmoil, not sure of what to believe. The mysterious stranger that had appeared in his dreams seemed to be looming off somewhere in the background. A blue bandana, kept his long, untidy hair in place. His face was stern; wrinkled and strained with age. He seemed to be talking to someone who wasn't there. Suddenly, he turned around and the vision vanished. Replacing it: was the face of another, someone that he had known and loved.  
  
'Mother . . .'  
  
A wave of anger burned through him like wildfire. Suddenly, he pulled out a pistol, pointing it at Otacon's head.  
  
"A good story. Worthy of applause. But not the truth. My mother gave birth to me twenty-two years ago. I was born and raised in New York City. I never knew my father. He died in a car accident before I was even born. My mother and I lived alone in a one-bedroom apartment. She was a fighter; on of the best that New York had to offer, but we were down on luck. On the day of the Big Shell Incident, she was sent with the SEALs to rescue the president. At that time, I was only twelve. Just the day before, she had given me he combat knife. It had been her lucky-charm, her protection. When the Big Shell blew, I was horrified. I was the one who robbed her of her luck. I was the one who killed her. When she did not come out, I promised-I swore by my very own life, that I would avenge my mother's death and do my part to the world. People like you disgust me. You lie; you kill, to achieve your own means. I don't know how you know my mother but I am sure of one thing: you deserve to die."  
  
"Don't do this, I know that you are angry-and you have every right to be, but I am not the one doing the lying. I know it sounds farfetched but it is the truth. The world you live in is not as you think! Everything is scripted out, planned to the finest detail by a phantom government!"  
  
Ivan's hands were shaking. Another cold draft of wind came from seemingly nowhere. He was no longer in the room with Otacon, but rather in freezing chamber. Bluish light illuminated the room. Ivan looked around and saw row after row of empty vats. The bandana-wearing stranger stood before him. He did not speak but just stood there, staring. Suddenly, the image began to morph into another. Ivan gasped. His mother stood there in front of him; her eyes narrowed and her voice stern.  
  
"Do it Ivan! Do it for me! Kill the bastard!"  
  
He image flickered for a second and fizzed out completely.  
  
"MOTHER!!!"  
  
"Don't believe her, Ivan! That is not your real mother!" a gruff voice from behind him yelled out.  
  
Ivan turned around and stood facing the stranger.  
  
"Who are you?!"  
  
He just stood there, not saying a word.  
  
Ivan blinked as the thought entered his mind.  
  
"Father?" he whispered uncertainly.  
  
The man laughed and shook his head. "No, just a -"  
  
His voice became distorted; his face began to melt away.  
  
"KILL HIM!! KILL---"  
  
"NO, IVAN, NO!!! SHE'S NOT--"  
  
"SHOOT HIM NOW!!!"  
  
"VARIETY LEVEL 11: RESCUE MERYL!!!"  
  
"TRAITOROUS DOG!!!"  
  
"I NEED SCISSORS! 61!"  
  
The images around him began to twist and discolor. He felt his legs slip out from under him. He looked down and found himself staring into a deep dark void. Lightning flashed from all directions and darkness consumed him.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"What happened there, sir? Is he alright?"  
  
"Yes, he is just fine. The conflicting signals his namomachines were sending him must have temporarily blacked him out. We're not the only ones with his brain frequency. THEY have it as well."  
  
"Yes, I see . . ."  
  
"Don't worry my little friend, he is stronger than most humans. We made him so. It will be interesting to see how the Patriots will deal with this new development."  
  
"Yes, master. Interesting indeed. Do you think they will suspect?"  
  
"No, not another being on this planet knows of our existence. Let us keep it that way."  
  
"Yes, master."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Bro, are you alright?"  
  
"Ugh . . ."  
  
"Don't worry, its all taken care of now."  
  
Ivan recognized Zack's enthusiastic voice. He felt the feeling flow back into his body. He was in a bed - a soft comfortable bed. The Medical Wing . . . Yes . . . That was where he was. He opened his eyes. Everything was blurry. The light was painful to look at. Ivan turned his head so that it was not as bright.  
  
"What happened, Zack?"  
  
"I dunno. You just kinda keeled over like you did at the raid. Are you sure your alright?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a matter of curiosity, do you know your parents well?"  
  
"Huh? Wh--what do you mean?"  
  
"Have you ever had a-a dream or a . . .Aw, forget it. It all must sound so silly to you."  
  
Zack sighed, "No . . . not at all . . . I never was very . . . close . . . with my parents. They always wanted me to . . . to study hard and . . . become a doctor or something . . . and I . . . I just wanted to live life, ya'know? Just go out and do something. I've always wanted to travel. More than anything . . . more than anything, I wanted to visit Alaska. Huh. Kind of a strange dream, I know. Ever since I was six, and I heard of the Northern Lights, I just wanted to be able to see them. Not on TV, but in person. Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm rambling on again. Well that's enough about me. What about you?"  
  
"Huh? Me? Well, there's not much to tell. I was raised in New York City. My mom was with the SWAT team - one of the best."  
  
"That's where you get it from?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess. I never knew my father. And then . . . April 30th happened . . ."  
  
"What? What happened?"  
  
"My mother was a victim of her own success. The SEALs were short one man that day. My mother jumped at the opportunity. Then . . ."  
  
"I'm so sorry . . . I had no idea the real Ivan Gurlukovich had it so tough."  
  
"I'm no hero. I'm no legend. The true heros and heroines are those who give their own lives for the sake of others. I'm just as special as you or any other person on this planet."  
  
"Your right, Ivan. Everybody is special and everybody deserves so credit for his or her actions. I never though of it as that way. Thanks, Ivan! Hey where are you going! The doctor said-"  
  
Ivan had risen out of the bed. He need think. His head was swirling. The man with the bandana, he had seen him before in other dreams and at the raid, too. And also, why was his mother there and why were the two fighting? Something about the prisoner's story had also made sense. Something about it sounded familiar. Almost like a dream from a totally different world: so far, yet so real.  
  
"I'm going for a walk. I need some fresh air."  
  
"Do you need me to come with you?"  
  
"No, I'd rather be alone."  
  
"Oh, I understand completely."  
  
"See you around, Big Bro."  
  
"You calling me old! Get back here you young upstart!"  
  
Zack just laughed.  
  
"Enjoy your walk . . . and don't break a hip!"  
  
After Zack had left Ivan got up. It was amazing how childish that Zack could be. But then, childhood had its advantages.  
  
"Thank-you, Zack. For bringing happiness back into a troubled soul. Thank- you . . ." 


End file.
